


A Very Fond Farewell

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Feelings, Pain, there's a happy ending I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: Saying goodbye always seems to be the hardest part, and Merlin has had to say goodbye far more than he wished he ever had to.





	A Very Fond Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> So, the title is totally inspired by 'The Last Goodbye' by Billy Boyd. I suggest listening to it while reading. Lots of laughs. 
> 
> I don't own Merlin. Just the writing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! As every author, I love feedback!

Saying goodbye was always the hardest part. 

Four years after Arthur's death, Gaius's time had finally come. It was so simple and easy that Merlin almost laughed. The stubborn old mentor slipped away in his sleep. 

"Merlin, my boy." He had croaked from his bed as Merlin made him supper the night prior. 

"Yes, Gaius?" Merlin had taken off all his superfluous Court Sorcerer robes that evening. He always did that when he was in Gaius's chambers. It reminded him of happier times. Of simpler times. 

"Come here." He ordered firmly, but his eyes were kind. Merlin obeyed. He pulled a chair up next to Gaius's bed and plopped down onto it, bowl of chicken broth in his hand. "Where did all this obeying come from? That would've been a dream years ago." 

The warlock laughed, a wonderful feeling, and set the bowl on the small desk beside him. "Well, they do say one mellows with old age."

"Old." The retired physician scoffed. "You can tell me that you are old when you start getting wrinkles under your eyes and around your mouth."

Merlin said nothing. He simply basked in Gaius's presence. They both knew they didn't have much time left together. 

"Of course, your wrinkles won't be like mine – not from studying old books and standing over sickbeds." Gaius chuckled, reaching up and placing a hand on Merlin's cheek. "Yours will come from smiling. Oh, my dear boy, you smile so much."

The warlock smiled then too. "Nowadays you seem to be one of the few who can muster up such a smile from me, Gaius." 

The old man gave a grin himself. "And what an honor it is." 

Merlin's grin softened, and his eyes grew slightly cloudy near the edges. "You're like a father to me, Gaius."

"And you like my son." Gaius stroked his cheek fondly. "I love you so much, my boy." 

"Do you have to leave too?" Merlin asked, and it was so childish of him. So childish and selfish to want Gaius to stay. "I don't – I don't think I can..."

"You will." As always, Gaius knew. He knew exactly what Merlin was feeling, what he meant, what he wanted to say. "You are the strongest man I have ever met, Merlin, and you will go on. It will hurt. It always does. You know that. But you are so strong."

Merlin swallowed hard, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I don't - I don't want you to leave." 

"I know." The old physician smiled wetly, wiping the moisture from Merlin's skin. 

"I don't want to be alone, Gaius." 

"I know." 

It was quiet then. There was no need for many words. All of the gratefulness, the love that the two had for each other had already been said and understood. 

Gaius's eyelids began to flutter, and his hand fell from Merlin's face. The warlock was quick to catch it in his own. He held it up to his lips and kissed it. "I am so-," he choked, shaking his head. "I am so, so glad to have known you, Gaius. I- I had a father because of you, and I can never thank you enough. You've done so much for me and I can never – it won't be – ugh!" 

The tears were coming freely now. Losing people was a constant in his life. It never became easier.

"You are so good, my boy. So, so good. No matter what happens, no matter how long you are here or what Destiny throws at you, remain good." Gaius smiled weakly, his breathing growing softer with each passing moment. His eyelids fluttered shut and he sighed. 

Merlin chuckled wetly and clung to the hand wrapped in his. "Farewell Gaius."

When Merlin awoke the next morning, the fingers clasped so tightly were cold and his guardian's chest lay still. There was a smile on the physician's face, serene and calm and finally at peace. And Merlin smiled too. 

Gwen's death was sweet. 

She was two weeks shy of reaching her 72nd winter as she laughed with Merlin on her bed. Unlike Merlin, her face showed the weary of the years. She had wrinkles, most of the wonderfully from laughter (Gaius would be proud), and her eyes were darker than they used to be. She had seen so much in her years as Queen. Wars and fighting and death. There was an exhaustion to her as she lay under the covers as Merlin conjured fairies out of gold for her enjoyment. 

Her sons had long since retired for the night to mourn, her grandchildren either far from Camelot or put to bed. Leon had died some years earlier, leaving Gwen a widow a second time. Merlin was all that was left. 

He would be damned if he left her too. 

"You were always so good at making beautiful things." Gwen said softly, eyes glistening in the light. "Ever since you stepped into this kingdom and you flashed that cheeky grin of yours I knew." 

"Knew what?" Merlin smiled, the sparkles twisting into a great dragon. 

"That the world was about to change." She chuckled fondly.

The warlock nodded. "Yes, thrown into the stocks and being pelted with fruit. What a way to change the world."

"But you did." Gwen poked his chest with as much strength as she could muster. "You did change the world. You changed our world, Merlin. You... you are incredible."

He looked up at that, gaze curious. 

The Queen reached up and touched his cheek. "You are  _so_ incredible, Merlin, and I wish that you saw it as much as I do." She paused, sighing heavily. "As much as he did."

He chuckled. "Yes, he who called me an idiot and a girl's petticoat. I'm sure he thought I would make an  _incredible_ housewife."

Gwen knew his undertones. She knew his heart. She didn't bite back. Instead, she shook her head and sighed again, her breath slightly scratchy. "I'm tired, Merlin. I think I'll turn in."

"Gwen." He spoke, suddenly scared. His throat was tight as he said, "I – We –,"

"I know, Merlin." She whispered, a tear racing down her cheek. "And I love you too."

She laid back into the pillows, her hand falling to lay on the coverlet. She took in the sight of the warlock for a long moment, nothing but the crackling fireplace shifting the silence. She was drinking him in one last time. 

"Be good, Merlin." She breathed. "Always be good." 

He grimaced. "It's hard." 

"I know." Gwen's blinks were longer. "Goodbye, my dear friend."

"Goodbye Gwen." 

Her eyes shut, and Merlin slipped his fingers through hers. A breath... two... and she grew still. 

The candles were burnt out and he stayed, never letting go of her hand, and prayed to every god he knew that she found her way back to the arms of her king. 

Percival’s death was red. 

The feelings in Merlin’s being, the blood on his hands, the color of his cape. It was all red. 

Fury burned deep inside the warlock as he tried desperately to heal the wounds that seemed to cover his friend’s body. War was raging across the lands of Essetir and Camelot, now ruled by Gwen’s grandson, had made the decision to intervene. Stupidly, in both the knight’s and the warlock’s opinion, but they silently obeyed and here they were. 

Merlin hated this. He hated this feeling – helpless and useless and powerless – because that feeling is what he felt when Arthur was growing cold in his arms. When he could do nothing. 

How Percival was smiling softly in that silent way of his that could calm a storm. 

“Merlin, leave it.” The quiet knight breathed. 

Merlin’s hands were sticky and wet with all the blood. His fingers slipped repeatedly from the wounds, unintentionally causing more discomfort and pain, but he couldn’t stop. He had to save Percival. He couldn’t lose Percival. “No. I can heal you.”

“Merlin, please.” 

“No!” The warlock snapped, but there was no bite behind it, and the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “I won’t leave it. I will heal you. What good am I if I can’t even... if you...” 

Percival slid his red hand from his stomach to grasp Merlin’s. “You’ve done all you can, Merlin. My time has come.”

How talkative Perce had grown with age. Or perhaps he was the only one who Merlin talked to at all anymore. 

“I won’t lose you too.” Merlin croaked. 

The knight’s smile was fond. “You know well by now that you can’t fight the will of Destiny, Merlin, no matter how you-,” he was overcome with a fit of coughs, the blood on his stomach spurting upwards. Merlin's gut curled, and the hand that wasn’t grasped in Percival’s went to the wound. 

But Merlin had expended his magic. He had been using it to fight and heal and defend and destroy for days now. He didn’t have any to spare. 

He could have screamed. Unlike Arthur, Merlin now had the power to heal wounds like his, and now, when he needed to, he could not. 

How tragically ironic. 

“Merlin.” it was an order somehow, and Merlin pulled his wet eyes up from their hands and the fact that Percival’s was quivering. “You are not good at being alone, my friend. We both know that. But – but don’t forget.”

The warlock’s brows furrowed, showing his question. 

“Don’t forget your friends.” Percival scoffed. “Don’t forget the ones who love you.”

And it was horribly obvious that he used the present tense. 

“Forget?” Merlin snorted, grasping his friend’s hand tighter to make up for his waning strength. “I could never.” 

“Good.” Percival grinned, but his eyelids drooped. There was too much red. It was everywhere. 

Red. Red. Red.

“Goodbye, Merlin,” he whispered softly, and with his remaining strength, he gripped the fingers that were intertwined with his. “Thanks for everything.” 

His eyes slid closed. The crimson covered hand on his stomach slid to the blood-soaked ground. The fingers that Merlin held so tightly relaxed and grew cold. 

Merlin choked on the sobs bubbling up in his throat. He pulled Percival’s body to his, wrapping his arms around his friend and rocking back and forth. He was hyper-aware of the red that now stained his own clothing, that clung to his skin, that filled his nostrils. He knew so cruelly of the chill already settling over the knight’s body, that was spreading through Merlin like a sickness, that was encircling Merlin’s heart and squeezing. 

Percival was the last one. There was no one else. His friends... all his friends were dead. 

And he saw red. The red of the cape, the red of the blood. 

None of the enemies survived that day, and for years to come, the people spoke of the redness of a warlock.

Merlin had no idea that saying goodbye to a place could cause so much sorrow, but as he looked around his quarters one last time, tears pricked at his eyes. The walls, always cold but comforting, a wonderful reminder that he was home. That he was safe. The desk near the window, just like Arthur’s had been, where he had taken counsel and invented spells. The bed where he had never truly slept but instead counted stars and dreamed of better days. The windows that were sometimes the only things telling Merlin that he wasn’t trapped. The table, no clean and pristine, that was a meeting place of so many of his friends – his family. 

How amazing and horrible at the same time to feel so many things for a place. 

Camelot was Merlin’s home. He had begun his life here. He had met his king here, though he hadn’t known it then. He had met the love of his life, his mentor, his best friends in the world. He had fought evil and saved lives, created mischief and lost so much. He had sacrificed so much for this kingdom to the point where his very being was tied to her foundation. For ages to come, people would tell stories of the great Merlin and his Camelot. 

Only a few knew of not-so-great Merlin and  _his_ Camelot. His kingdom. His home. 

His soul was connected to this place. His heart was attached to these halls, to the throne room, the physician’s chambers. The stables and courtyard and training grounds. He knew every secret passage and little cranny. He knew the kitchens and the dungeons, the cellar and the library. He had memories with every place, every corridor. He knew this castle like the back of his hand, every place where the windows warmed the stone and where the stars shone brightest. 

Merlin wiped his tears away, reaching for his neckerchief. He tied it skillfully around his neck and grabbed his back. Slinging it over his shoulder, he glanced once more. 

At just that moment, the sun broke over the north tower. Light flooded the room and warmed every surface. It was saying goodbye. 

And with that, Merlin turned, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hallway, his form slowly changing to that of a young man, hair black and shaggy. His scarf was not the purple color of the new king of Camelot, but a deep red. His cloak became a brown leather jacket, swinging and loose around his arms. His dark shoes were boots again, fully ready to be clumsy for him when he needed. 

And his eyes were bright blue and young, ready for the adventure that lay before him. 

No one knew him as he passed through the front gate. No one who had known him then was alive now. He passed through the lower town, smiling at everything around him. 

he only looked back when he crested the top of the hill. He turned, grinning proudly at the castle he knew so well. “Farewell, Camelot. Until we meet again.”

 

"Merlin, not without the horses." Arthur panted, shaking his head weakly. "We can't – it's too late. It's too late." 

Merlin wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist. The king used the last bits of his strength to close his hand around Merlin's. "It's too... all your magic, Merlin, and you can't save my life."

And that hurt. Oh, gods, it hurt. Because he should be able to do this. Damn it! He should be able to save his king. 

"I can." The warlock snapped weakly, trying to pull Arthur up again and failing. Tears were already clouding his eyes as if his body knew what was happening before Merlin's head and heart would accept it. "I'm not going to lose you."

"Just- _just_ -," Arthur patted his hand weakly. "Just hold me."

Merlin's jaw hardened, and he set on pulling Arthur up again.

" _Please_."

Oh, he had never been able to deny Arthur anything. He rested his cheek against his king's, breathing heavily.

Arthur swallowed, struggling with his words. "There's... there's something I want to say." 

Urgency surged through him and he shook his head. "You're not going to say goodbye." To prove that point, he tried to pull them both up again. He had to keep walking, to keep going, to do whatever was required of him to save his king. 

He couldn't lose Arthur. Please not Arthur too. 

"No." The king shook his head, eyes half closed. "Merlin."

Merlin met his lord's gaze. 

"Everything you've done... I know now. For me. For Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build."

Each word is weak, and they both know what is happening, deep down they do. Merlin still though ignores it. He ignored the burning pain that had already begun coursing through him. So instead, he does what he always does when it hurts. He tries to return to normality. "You'd have down it without me."

Arthur chuckles at this. "Maybe." And then his eyes grow distant and Merlin's brow furrows. He hefts Arthur up higher in his embrace, and the king blinks. "I want to say something I've never said to you before." 

He twisted his head, face shining with sweat from the effort. Merlin is giving him all his attention. Completely, utterly, forever. 

"Th-thank you."

Such simple words, ones that could be pushed away if it were from anyone else. But they were making Merlin cry. 

Arthur reached up and threaded his fingers through Merlin's dark hair and the ghost of a grin widened his lips for a moment. And then his grip failed, and his hand slipped off of Merlin's head. His eyes began to flutter shut. 

"Arthur. Hey." Merlin grasped his king's cheek. "No. Arthur."

His skin was growing colder by the second. 

"Arthur!" 

His blue eyes appeared again, but they were even more distant than before. Merlin smiled faintly. 

"Stay with me." He breathed. But the blue was gone once more, and Arthur's head rolled back. "Arthur!"

Nothing. 

"No."

Saying goodbye was always the hardest part. 

It came to Merlin as quite the surprise when saying hello was the easiest thing in the world. 

But it was. Oh, it was  _so_ easy. 

There he was, golden hair drenched and red cape soaked. His blue eyes were more beautiful than he had ever seen them, smile wider than he had ever known. His armor was shining in the morning sun, but Merlin was blinded by the love practically glowing from his gaze. 

They were both running, water splashing around them as they just tried to close the  _goddamn distance_ that separated them. His heart was hopping all over the place and his own grin was hurting his face. His eyes were sparkling with tears, the moisture flowing down his cheeks in torrents as he neared his king. 

And suddenly he was there, holding his arms out and grasping Merlin like he was the only thing that mattered – and he  _was_. He was laughing that laugh that could light up the fucking Notre Dame and smiling the smile that made his heart stop beating. He was here. 

Oh, God, he was here. 

Arthur grinned, tears streaming down his own face. He sobbed happily, reaching up to place a hand on Merlin’s cheek. “Merlin.” he breathed fondly.

The warlock sobbed too. “Hello you.”

And as Arthur pulled his silly wizard into a strong embrace, Merlin realized he hadn’t been saying goodbye at all. 

He had been saying farewell until later. 

He buried his face into Arthur’s shoulder.  “ _Hello_ , Arthur.” 


End file.
